They're curled on Kurt's bed; Blaine's head pillowed against his shoulder, as he idly plays with the tiny string of buttons falling diagonally down his boyfriend's chest. Kurt is stroking steady fingers through his unruly hair and Blaine hitches his leg up closer towards Kurt's hip, relishing the lazy afternoon and the lack of parents interrupting their cuddles.

The music shifts between tracks, and Blaine is in that wonderful place between real sleep and conscious reality – everything's soft and warm and smells of Kurt and god he wants to bottle this moment forever so he can open it up and breathe it in over the year to follow.

"Blaine?" Kurt asks gently, his bodying tensing.

"Hmmm?"

"Change the music, yeah?" he mumbles.

Blaine lifts a sleepy head to blink blearily at his boyfriend. "But it's West Side Story."

Kurt smiles uncomfortably. "I know. I just don't like this one."

"Who doesn't like Somewhere?"

"Blaine. Please?" Kurt's avoiding his eye, so Blaine shuffles off him to turn to the next song, glancing back for approval as it shifts to Gaga, and settling back against Kurt at his boyfriends happy nod.

They lay a few moments longer before Blaine's curiosity gets the better of him, so he turns onto his stomach and rests his head on his arms splayed across Kurt's chest.

"Why don't you like Somewhere?"

"Really Blaine?"

"Come on. You've never asked me to skip it before."

"We've never listened to it together."

"Kurt," Blaine smiles, "We watched West Side Story at least once a week in the lead up to the musical, not to mention the amount of time I spent singing it to you every afternoon."

Kurt shifts uncomfortably and Blaine digs himself closer, drawing Kurt in to him so that his breath puffs against Kurt's neck.

"We haven't listened to it since the musical," his boyfriend finally mumbles.

Blaine stiffens. "What's wrong?"

"Blaine, I don't want to talk about it. It's nothing...it's stupid."

"Something's bothering you, so it's not stupid and it's definitely not nothing."

Kurt remains quiet, his brow drawn painfully, so Blaine presses his fingers into the planes of his chest to swirl patterns into his skin, willing him to relax.

"Is it about being Krupke?" he asks slowly.

"Oh god Blaine, no. No, you know I got over that months ago."

"Then what?" Blaine asks, "Please tell me."

"I...I just don't like that scene. The final scene, when Maria sings it again," Kurt finally says, voice so soft Blaine strains to hear him.

"Why?" he stops and thinks, remembers each moment, each action; the music swelling as the audience falls quiet, the others crowding around he and Rachel and Kurt, as Krupke, stepping out on to the stage until he was directly behind the pair, Blaine cradled in Rachel's arms –

"Ohh," he breathes softly. "Oh Kurt, sweetheart." He scrambles up the bed and shuffles to the side to pull Kurt to his chest, hushing him and pressing wet, open mouth kisses to his forehead as Kurt finally shudders, sobbing into his neck.

"I'm sorry, it's stupid –"

"No, no sweetheart. No it's not. God, I didn't even think. But if it had been you...and I had to watch...god. It's not stupid."

He rocks Kurt gently in his arms as Kurt's fingers twine around his bicep, gripping tightly, tears trickling down Blaine's neck as they fall.

"I didn't even think about it until we were up on stage, and then I had to step out right behind you, and you were just lying there, so still and mangled, and you'd let out this final breath as your hand went still in Rachel's... and I felt like I was the one dying...like I couldn't breathe."

Stage lights burning brightly into his skin; the charged hush of the audience as Rachel's clear, sweet voice broke with anguish on the final notes; Blaine's tiny, mangled body being lifted effortlessly by the boys to be carried off stage.

"You're so small," Kurt mumbles, shuddering as Blaine huffs a laugh, "And you just lay there, so still. I know it's acting. I know that...but just the thought of it... makes me sick."

Blaine can remember being dropt from the boys arms and the steady thump of their hands as the clapped him in congratulations – another night done, another good job – he can remember listening to the thunderous applause of the audience and the haze of the full set of lights as they'd all stumbled out to bow – standing alongside Rachel, gripping her hand tight as the pair emerged last – he can remember rushing off stage with everyone and being tugged and pushed by unseen hands until he was up against a wall, or hidden behind a prop, Kurt's hot mouth on his as his hands dug sweetly into skin, mapping him out, pulling him apart with the heat and the dizzy adrenaline of the show and the perfect slide of the boy against him.

"All those nights, afterwards...I thought it was just the novelty of...us," he breathes softly, and it's Kurt's turn to huff gently.

"Part of it was, I guess...mostly I just wanted to feel you against me. Remind myself you were here, and alive...not..."

"Yeah," Blaine mumbles, lips pressed to Kurt's hairline.

"That first night...before we talked. That was the worst. Because rehearsals hadn't been so bad, but being up their on stage, with the audience silent, I thought I was going to suffocate, and then I couldn't even grab you afterwards because we weren't talking–"

"You could have. You always can. Please, even if we fight...you can always –"

"I know. I know now. I just wanted to crawl into your skin and breathe you in and feel you."

"So that night?"

"Mostly about reminding myself you were alive. And mine. But I wanted it. I wanted to feel close to you. I love you."

"I love you. And I'm always yours."

Kurt wipes his eyes discreetly until Blaine pulls back to kiss at his eyelids. Kurt hates it when he does things like that – kiss the soul of his foot, or the crease of his thigh, or his skin when its broken or sore – places he thinks are not remotely romantic or too close to being, as Kurt says, kind of gross. Blaine loves it though. Loves every inch of him and wants to kiss him everywhere until Kurt realizes it.

"Yours, yours yours yours," he mumbles, kissing sweetly along the bridge of his nose and along his cheek as Kurt giggles.

"So," he breathes softly, "I should take Somewhere off the list of romantic songs to sing to you?"

Kurt huffs against him. "Might be best."

His boyfriend pulls back, eyes red with tears, and groans softly. "Argh...I'm sorry. I've got you all wet and gross."

"I like it when we're all wet and gross..."

"Blaine!"

"What? It's true! When we're wet and gross I feel alive with you... just you and me. Nothing else matters except your heart beat and your lips and your everything pressed up against me..."

"God only you could turn wet, gross sex into something romantic."

"Hmm," Blaine hums happily. "It's a gift...want to get wet and gross with me now?"

"Oh my god. And you just lost it."

"Kuuuurt" he whines.

"No. Nope. Get off my you git," but Kurt is giggling and slipping a leg between Blaine's and Blaine has the sneaking suspicion he doesn't mean any of it. He grins wickedly.

"Never. I'm yours remember. Always, always yours."

Kurt's smile is dazzling. "Mine," he nods in agreement.

"Even when you're wet and gross..."

"Shut up Blaine," Kurt breathes.

And so he does.